


some peculiar constellation

by unspoken_code



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anya is a little bit opportunistic, F/M, First Kiss, Internal Conflict, Lots of kissing, Prompts I Made Up For Myself, Romance, What if Gleb kissed Anya???, What-If, but still lovable and sweet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-02-06 00:24:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12805578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unspoken_code/pseuds/unspoken_code
Summary: An underhanded girl, an act of desperation...***Gleb makes a mistake, a huge one, by kissing Anya in his office on the Nevsky Prospekt. This makes him question his loyalty to his homeland, and makes Anya question the far-fetched plot to disguise herself as Anastasia. It isn't that she doesn't want to discover her identity- far from it- but she hasn't had a warm place to sleep or a full stomach for longer than she can remember, and that tends to warp one's decision-making skills.ON HIATUS- REVAMPING AND EDITING





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I haven't written in so long, because last year was really rough and now I'm just really busy. I am new to the Anastasia fandom, but I saw it in June and I'm always a sucker for darker romances with angst and conflicting emotions. I just want to say that I know that the way this relationship pans out is not exactly healthy or desirable, but that's kind of where the fascination of it comes in.  
> If you also like this pairing or the fandom, please hit me up so we can become friends! My tumblr is nobodysbuttmonkey.  
> Also, if you want prompts, I have a bunch for this pairing!  
> I hope you enjoy- please give kudos or comment if you want me to continue this!

“Your eyes… a man can look in them forever,” Gleb whispered. His hand was soft against Anya’s chin, soft because of his station in the regime, a harsh reminder of why she was even carrying on this conversation. She suppressed a shudder trailing down her spine when she felt his breath on her face. 

“I…” she trailed off. Gleb was hovering closer, and closer, and God maybe he did feel something for her, and maybe she could escape the streets, and-

He kissed her. Anya didn’t have much experience with kisses, but she was fairly sure that this was a good one. Gleb had soft lips. Soft, again, almost too soft and too kind and too total a glimpse of how things could be. Anya stood still against him and could barely comprehend what was happening. It was good, yes, but- well. She was a street-sweeper, a job she was lucky to have. And he was an officer, who ate good food every night, wore fine clothing, and slept in a bed, under blankets, under a roof, under stars that aligned just for him. They were not meant to be together. 

Then Gleb’s lips broke from hers, and she chanced a look at the stars, and it must have been some peculiar shape that they were forming, because all of a sudden the stars could align for her, too, and she took Gleb’s face with her hands and kissed him. Though she didn’t know whether this was for the physical comfort he could provide or for the strange good newness of his lips against hers, she went forth anyway and plunged into the veritable abyss. Their mouths and bodies were connected; she could feel the heat of him through his thick wool officer’s uniform and her threadbare rags. Such a tangle of emotions welled up inside her that she had to take a breath and regroup. He seemed as surprised as she felt. 

“Anya…” he whispered. Anya couldn’t tell if his voice carried love or fear or a mixture of both. 

“I… I’m s-sorry,” she muttered. She dared not chance a look at him, for the fear of seeing what his reaction was. Anya’s stomach tightened instinctively. This was not good. Would he reject her? Worse, what if he wanted her? All anxiety about her crime were wiped away, replaced with the new terror of today.

“Don’t be.” His gruff voice broke through the anxious thoughts that cycled through her head. Anya had to force herself to breathe- “just breathe, child,” she could almost hear a voice say- until Gleb spoke again, since apparently she was unable to.  
“I- uh. I have duties to attend to, as I am sure you do as well. So. I shall… see you tomorrow? Back at work?” 

It was a question. He must have been as nervous as she was! It gave her slight confidence to see that, but also made her uncomfortable. Now that she had reciprocated- in an odd, not fully lucid sense- Anya felt tied to him. A high-standing official, who could have her killed, kissed her and she kissed him back and now she could be in serious danger. There was no way she could go back to the palace now. But those were troubles for later. Anya had to keep playing this game, this role, and figure the rest out when outside of the office. And so she took a deep breath and let the corner of her lips lift in a slight smile.

“I look forward to it,” Anya replied quietly. 

“Until then, comrade,” he said.

Anya nodded, still smiling, and darted out the door into the brisk cold. 

This was either going to end very well or very- well, not.  
-  
She saw him again the next day, of course. Anya did not know much about him but she knew that he was devoted to his work. Gleb was a man of devotion, it seemed. To his Mother Russia, to his regime. To Anya, maybe, some traitorous part of her whispered.  
Dmitry and Vlad had told her to meet them again that night. That would have been fine, if it were not for Anya’s bone-deep certainty that she was being watched. After yesterday’s performance, Gleb was sure to have spies watching the palace and, no doubt, her. The thought of returning to her “studies” seemed childish, somehow, now. Anya still wanted her Paris dream, more than anything, but the far-fetched fantasies of the conmen were just… not possible. Russian borders were closing every day; with the regime watching all of them closely, there was no chance of escape; and even if Anya was Anastasia, who could say whether she would be recognized as such? Anya wanted to go to Paris, but she did not want to be riddled with bullet holes. Her identity was important, but perhaps who she was in the moment mattered more than a title ever would.

As she was sweeping, her stomach churned. Anya had not yet eaten that day; nor could she, if she wanted to be able to afford boots for the upcoming winter. It was getting colder already and the Russian winters were the death of many. Anya was glad that the day was almost over. Her hands, like always, were blistered, cracked and numb from the chafing broom handle. The job was mind- and finger-numbingly tedious.  
What was worse, though, were the constant thoughts swirling through her mind about Gleb. Anya knew logically he was handsome; she would not admit it to any person or deity on Earth, but he was. It was a fact. Also a fact? He kissed her. That threw a wrench into the situation, definitely. Because while before Anya could have just watched the passionate man who spoke in the square- never agreeing with what he said but loving to watch him speak, occasionally wondering what it would be like to have his status- now she could not be content with that. Now he was real, and in reach. Gleb was not a stern effigy carved into marble. He was a man, with warm, soft lips and eyes that were always lighted with some intense fervor. Anya did not know if she was attracted to him or what that would mean. All she knew was that he was warm. 

But these were not thoughts that Anya would regularly allow herself, so she swept them away as she did the debris on the streets. Besides, she was just at the point, her favorite moment, when she could not feel the cold anymore. It was a relief and a terror rolled into one, but Anya savored what little relief she could find. The rhythmic movements of the sweeping lulled her into a quiet servitude that carried her through the rest of her shift.  
When the church bells rang clamorously, Anya nearly jumped in surprise. It seemed that any sudden noise would throw her into a terror quite easily. Her fright was compounded by the tap on her shoulder immediately after the ringing of the bells. She turned around, and - surprise!- it was Gleb. Anya stared at her feet. She could feel her face growing warm. It was always around him that she did that.

“Comrade,” Gleb greeted her. 

“Comrade,” she replied, finally meeting his eyes. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but his body language was not worrying to her. After years of being alone, she had learned to read intentions through motion. Gleb, while tense, did not seem ready to kiss her again, or do anything drastic. 

“I…. I wanted to apologize. For what I… we….did yesterday. It was inadmissible for me to- to kiss you.” As if she didn’t kiss him back? 

The way Anya saw it, she had multiple choices at this moment. She could accept his apology and leave awkwardly, leaving a sour taste in both of their mouths; she could accept his apology with a good-natured joke and continue this odd banter they had begun; or... she could kiss him. The last option was the scariest, because Anya didn’t know where it would lead. Gleb was certainly kinder than the other officers she had met, but would an overt reciprocation of his affections change that? If Anya were to think long-term about it (which she had, over and over), she would know that fanning the flames of what chemistry they had could keep her in food and clothes until the day she died, fat and happy. Loyal Russian as Anya was, she would never admit the class disparities out loud, nor would she ever voice the idea of using Gleb’s feelings to gain a better life, but-

It sounded so terrible when she put it like that. So… opportunistic. Anya decided she would never stoop that low.

But then her stomach growled fiercer than it ever had before. The last thing Anya ate was a stale slice of bread from the ration lines yesterday morning. 

Hunger, after all, is the chief motivator. 

Anya kissed Gleb, fully and completely and impulsively and not at all reservedly.

Well. She was stuck in it now.


	2. Gleb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Gleb POV. More kissing. The usual. :)

Gleb could almost feel his heart pounding out of his ribcage. He had dreaded apologizing to her after what had happened. It was a misstep on his part, to coerce the girl into any sort of fling. Gleb knew that other officers used their privileges in order to win the favors of impoverished young women. It was entirely against what good Russians stood for. 

However, Gleb could admit that he was not impervious to the charms of hardworking, dutiful Russian girls, ones who contributed to society, and had wide blue eyes, and caramel hair that sparkled just so in the sunlight, and…

Anya. He was thinking of Anya, again. 

His little street sweeper.

He could try as much as he wanted to dismiss the girl from his thoughts, but he had not slept well the night before. There was too much to think about. Gleb had not, unlike many of his fellow soldiers, partaken much in the ways of women. There were opportunities, but no woman had ever really caught his eye the way his Anya did. None had ever inspired him to such deviance from his obligations. Anyone else brought into his office for apprehension, he would have convicted in a heartbeat. Of course it had to be the frightened girl whom he watched from his office in the Nevsky Prospekt. Of course it had to be the one person that he had only worked up the courage to speak to weeks before. Of course it was Anya. 

Because while she played the fool and stared at him with those familiar blue eyes, he knew that there was more there. Yes, she was capable and quiet and determined, all those things Gleb knew simply from watching her work, but she was clever. He could see that. Clever but naive. Exactly the sort of girl that would be perfect prey for the likes of conmen. 

How easily she was led astray! If the reports were correct, it was that foolish muckraker Dmitry that stirred up this trouble, and brought Anya away from the light of the revolution. Gleb could hardly fault her for falling for the charade of the handsome young man. As young and inexperienced as she was, it was no wonder that she wanted to believe herself to be a royal. That, to him, was understandable- not everyone could adjust so easily to the new order. Some had to be shown the right path, the right way of doing things, in order to find a place in society. Gleb understood her dreams of being someone else.

What he could not understand, however, was why she had kissed him back. He had been in a trance when he first advanced upon her, which was then broken by the realization of the boundaries he had overstepped. But she looked at him, with those eyes that he could not look away from, and she had held her hands to his face and kissed him back in a single fluid motion. While his actions may have been a mistake, the fault was not entirely his, he concluded. 

Perhaps- the most supreme and sublime of all hopes Gleb had ever allowed himself- this girl who had shaped his thoughts in so little a time felt something for him too. Gleb had never thought of himself as an attractive individual, especially in school, when his awkward social tendencies and near-obsession with fulfilling his father’s legacy made him somewhat of an outcast. Nowadays his station made him an attractive potential mate for many women who didn’t contribute to society the way he and Anya did. He was somewhat of a catch. But could a girl, or this girl in particular, have for his love as great a pang of heart as he had for her?* 

The only girl he could imagine ever having true feelings for him was Anya. Though partially because he wanted it to be true, it was also because she was the only one who had put up no pretenses. Anya kept her head down and did her work with no complaint and with a diligence that was to be admired. Whereas other women would be more obvious in their wishes for his power, Anya seemed to want nothing to do with him. Gleb respected that- but something about that quality made him want her more. If he could win her affections by making up for his misstep, and wooed her properly, he could know her affections for him were real, and he could satiate his own desires for a home life. A family. Someone he could care for, who would care for him in return, someone who would be there to turn to at night when Gleb was hit with another nightmare. Someone like Anya. 

He had just come to this conclusion when he found Anya towards the end of her sweeping shift. Gleb hesitated for a moment but ultimately decided to just get the unpleasant apology over with. Maybe after this they could continue being- well, not friends, they had never been friends, really- but polite acquaintances. Ultimately it didn’t matter to Gleb whether she was his, only that she was safe and stayed out of trouble. Only that he could see her and know that her light was still shining for their homeland. He tapped her gingerly on the shoulder and steeled himself for what was to come.

“I…. I wanted to apologize. For what I… we….did yesterday. It was inadmissible for me to- to kiss you.” Once he finished struggling through that sentence, he exhaled deeply as though to rid all hopes of a good outcome from him. Deputy Commissioner Gleb Vaganov was practical above all else, after all. It was easier to have low expectations and treat the situation as a singular mistake than allow himself to hope that she truly wanted anything to do with him. Gleb Vaganov, who was perhaps the officer, who was perhaps still the frightened boy who heard screams of terror from that cellar in Yekaterinburg, and perhaps still that teenager who found it hard to make friends. This was easier to believe than fairytales or romance.

These low expectations made it slightly more difficult to comprehend her lips on his when she took matters into her own small and callused hands. Though shocked, Gleb responded with unbridled energy and moved his lips against hers like he was a drowning man gasping for air. His hands entangled firmly in her long locks of hair, he stepped close until he felt her pressed up against him. His heart beat harshly in his chest. Anya’s lips were chapped against his and he swore that he could feel the skin of her face heat as her passion grew. This must certainly wrong, for all things that felt this good could not be right. Nothing comes without its price, and so with great reluctance Gleb broke away from Anya’s kiss. 

“What was that?” he asked, partially to himself, partially to her, and partially to whatever cosmic deity had granted him this… this feeling. He loosened his hold on her hair and looked around. Luckily, it didn’t appear that anyone had really seen them. It was early morning still and though the sun was shining through the incessant clouds they were in an uncrowded area.

“I- I don’t know.” Her voice was slightly husky and her lips were swollen. The sight and sound of her like this, in the aftermath of their fervor, sent blood rushing within him in a less-than-gentlemanly way. Gleb took a decided step back and took a breath. There wasn’t enough air getting to his brain, after… whatever that was. 

“Is it too late to accept your offer of tea?” Anya questioned. Gleb nodded breathlessly.  
-  
The walk to the tea shop was silent as both Gleb and Anya were lost in thought. Her chest was quivering with each breath, like she still had not recovered from the connection they shared. Gleb could not help but steal glances at her as they walked. Anya seemed to be rigidly focusing on some object in the distance, either trying not to look at him, or trying to think of something to say. He held the door for her as they entered the shop.

An odd pair they made, a street sweeper and an officer. Only gawking stares met them as they walked down the street after they kissed. He had not meant to draw such attention to himself, or to Anya. Gleb was not sure what he meant to do, but he knew that it had to be sorted out. As they sat down in the shop and Gleb purchased two hot mugs of fresh mint tea, Anya stared down at her feet.

“Anya…” he began.

“Wait,” she interrupted. “Sorry. I just, wanted to say that. I’m sorry. For kissing you, uh, especially in the square.”

“There’s no need,” Gleb replied brusquely. “I just want to know- what, if anything, is it that you want from me?” He had to make sure. He had to know for sure.

“I couldn’t tell you,” Anya answered honestly. Her eyes met his for a brief moment before returning to the floor. Gleb could see her hands twisting in her lap as she maintained her perfect posture. How curious and proud a quality to have of a street sweeper. 

“Do you want power? A way out of Russia? Money? Do you want me to get you out of the scrape with those con artists you call friends? If you’re trying to use me for something, Anya, tell me now, please.”

There was a pregnant pause before Anya finally lifted her head with steely eyes.

“I can assure you, I don’t want you status. Or your power,” she said coldly. Gleb looked down, slightly embarrassed. Of course she would be offended, he had practically accused her of being a whore! But then the harsh look faded from Anya’s features, and she returned her gaze to her lap, back as stiff as ever. “Frankly, I’m not sure why I want you,” she muttered to herself.

Gleb stiffened. Why would she want him? All his secondary school insecurities came flooding back to him. He cleared his throat.

“Well.”

“Yes.”

Another long silence. 

“What happens now?” 

Anya took a long time to think about it. He could only imagine the thoughts swirling through her mind. Gleb’s own thoughts were darting about inside his head as well. 

“Well, given that nearly every time we see each other, we kiss, I would rule out being friends,” she offered with a tentative grin. Gleb returned the smile. Perhaps this would work out after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Anyone who can guess the reference can request a prompt and I’ll write it from them, at least 100 words! The reference is almost verbatim from another piece of theatre- if anyone knows it, comment below or message me and I’ll tell you if you’re right. Prompts can be from any fandom, though preferably one that I’m in (see profile). Good luck!
> 
> Please comment/give kudos if you liked it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "yikes," says dmitry. "double yikes," says anya.

When Anya returned to the bridge where she spent her nights, a hush fell upon the other residents of the spot. Anya could not feign ignorance in this. They knew that she had had tea at the nice tea shop with the Deputy Commissioner and maybe even that he had kissed her. It wasn’t that relationships with officers were frowned upon, as many would take what shelter they could get, but Anya still did not feel comfortable with them making assumptions on her character based on her interactions with Gleb. The dubious looks being shared were in part borne of jealousy and in part borne of resentment. After all, with Anya’s new connection, she could be a spy for the Bolsheviks, or perhaps just an informant for food and a little on the side. 

With this knowledge it was hard to ignore their unrelenting stares. However, Anya lifted her chin and leveled her gaze at any and all of the occupants of the bridge. They could judge her all they wanted- Anya may not have known who she was, per se, but she knew where she stood, and that was enough to walk to her spot under the bridge with her head held high. 

The whispers and chuckles continued again in a barely concealed hush as she walked. As Anya was settling into the rocky ledge tucked towards the southern end, she heard a voice reverberate under the arches. 

“So, little girl, is the commissioner’s bed as warm as it seems?” a woman’s voice drawled. Anya stiffened and kept her eyes to the floor, kneeling. 

Just ignore them, дорогая, Anya heard in her head. An older woman’s voice, familiar, comforting. A sudden image came to mind of a bright golden day and sitting on a platform and a jeering crowd and then the image left as quickly as it arose. The silence from her end must have incensed the woman further,as she spoke up again.

“I bet it wasn’t nearly as warm without you in it,” she continued. Anya gritted her teeth. A familiar ache built up in her eyes as she struggled not to let the tears slip down her face. They would not get to her. She was better than that. She was strong, of noble bloodli-

“Does Dmitry know that you’re Vaganov’s whore?”

And- there it was- the breaking point.

Anya turned around rapidly, tears forgotten.

“How dare you?” she hissed. “How dare you speak of me like you know me? I am not the commissioner’s bed warmer and I am certainly not his whore. I assure you that you need not concern yourself with my doings, and unless you want my fist in your face, I suggest you remain quiet on the matter!”

There was silence. Then some snickers from the other end of the bridge, but the woman did not respond. Anya nodded decisively to the invisible darkness. 

“Good night.”  
-  
The next day resumed as usual. Well, as usual as it could be with… certain new developments in Anya’s life. Anya woke with an inexplicable feeling of dread that was confirmed by the sudden rush of memories from the previous days. It had been so long since she had felt such a powerful cocktail of emotions- hope, fear, desperation, guilt- and it was not pleasant. 

Hope, because there was a new horizon in the distance, one with a better life that Anya didn’t even know, but knew was waiting. Fear, because there were too many decisions to make with too many consequences tied to them. Desperation, because each day came with new challenges that were getting harder to topple. And then the guilt. Guilt because Anya knew that she should be chasing her dreams of Paris and home, but did it exist? Was it worth it? Guilt because she didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t, and she knew that she should be able to tell the difference, but what did it matter, anyway, because nothing was going to change the fact that she was starving except-  
Guilt because she was fairly certain that she was using Gleb, and that felt so wrong to her core that Anya felt slightly nauseous when she thought about it. 

Whoever was- could be- might be- was not- waiting for her in Paris would be sorely ashamed of Anya’s decision-making skills. After all, this sort of deceit and manipulation was morally unjust. 

But then the question remained: was it deceit?

Gleb had to know Anya’s current state, her hunger for more, her desperation. If he didn’t, he deserved to be used. And, a small part of Anya knew, it wasn’t entirely desperation that she felt when she was with him. 

Guilt because even if she felt the right way, she was doing the wrong thing. 

Anya made her way to the Nevsky Prospekt with no small amount of emotion pitted in her stomach. She endeavored to breathe slowly, to calm her adrenaline, but when that failed resorted to clenching her fists tightly and leaving fingernail marks in her palm. The pain felt good, in a way. Constant. Distracting. 

Head down, head down, head down, she skirted the crowd around the Bolshevik podium and swept a small corner of the street, away from the light of day. The air was biting today, more so than the day before. It was going to be difficult today.

“Anya!” a voice hissed. Startled, Anya nearly dropped her broom in fright. Sudden noises unnerved her. When she turned around, instead of the person she most dreaded seeing, it was the person she least expected to see.

“Dmitry?”

“Where have you been, Anya? Vlad and I have been worried sick! We thought they killed you!” he asked somewhat loudly.

“Shush!” Anya made a silencing motion with her free hand. If they were heard, everything would be gone. “I’ve been… busy.” 

“Busy? Doing what? Sweeping?” Dmitry retorted. “What happened?”

“I’ve been laying low, if you must know,” she replied, looking him in the eye. He wouldn’t cow her. 

“Really? Because word on the street says you’ve been laying high, Anya,” he accused. “When were you going to tell me that you were with an officer?” His voice was returning to its normal volume but when Anya tried to grab his wrist to make him quieter, he tore his hand away like he was scorched.

“Dmitry!” 

“I don’t understand! We promise you a better life, outside of this hellhole, and you choose to shack up with goddamn Vaganov?”

“That’s not what happened, I swear, Dmitry! He called me into his office and I was scared and he kissed me and I didn’t stop him and he gave me food and that was it! I would never betray your trust like that. Never.” 

This seemed to stop his anger in its tracks. Anya, too, was exhausted by her admission. Dmitry’s eyes softened. His voice was a gentle murmur when he spoke next.

“Anya, you don’t have to do this,” he said. “Let us help you, so we can all get out of here.”

“Look, I want to, really I do, but if there’s one thing that life has taught me, it’s that you have to be practical. And really, what are even the chances of me getting out of here alive? I’m not you, Dmitry. I’m not willing to take those odds.” 

“But that doesn’t mean you have to be with him,” he muttered, more to the ground than to Anya. Like he knew that he couldn’t argue, and for her sake he didn’t want to. The wind picked up around them and Anya felt chills up her spine.

“I do what I need to do. Please, understand that.”

Dmitry nodded sullenly. His shoulders slouched. 

Anya reached out and touched his arm. He looked up quickly, and moved just slightly closer to her.

“Anya,” a voice rang out.

Gleb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this chapter.  
> Let me know what you think! Comment or kudos below.  
> Love y'all!!!!


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